


Not In This Life

by ShapeShiftersandFire



Series: Telepurrthy AU [5]
Category: Wolverine And The X-Men (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Hinted Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Telepurrthy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShapeShiftersandFire/pseuds/ShapeShiftersandFire
Summary: “It’s not that easy.”“Isn’t it?” says Selene, who’s never purred a day in her life. She cocks an eyebrow. “And why ever not?”Another painful cough before Emma says, “Not relaxed.”Damn it all.Selene crosses her arms, takes a breath, and asks the question she already knows the answer to (and she hates it): “And what, pray tell, do you suggest I do about that?”





	Not In This Life

**Author's Note:**

> switching gears and switching shows to bring you two members of the inner circle

Dinner that night, as per usual, is tense. No one says anything, no one even looks at each other. They’re on edge through nothing but the tricks and delusions of their own minds. And what’s more unfortunate is that Selene finds it contagious. She’s not particularly prone to keeling over easily but the paranoia radiating off the others finds its way to her and she absorbs it as easily as the rest.

But there’s something else. Selene realizes this is the fourth time Emma’s filled her water glass and every time she swallows she looks like she’s choking. It’s too out of the ordinary for Emma, too out of place for Selene not to notice.

(Selene’s attention to detail is flawless. Still, she wonders how many nights Emma’s looked like she’s struggling to get anything down.)

Selene eats slowly, eyes on Emma. The blonde telepath takes frequent breaks in between bites and sits there, staring at her plate.

_Gods above._ Emma’s not just _struggling_ , she’s _in pain._ And she’s not very good at hiding it. Selene sees every uncomfortable twitch in Emma’s face, every breath she can’t take, every flinch when she swallows. But Selene doesn’t smirk behind her own glass, as she might have on another occasion. She doesn’t chastise what she’d consider Emma’s lack of foresight and poor judgement. (Although she very well may later, depending on the reason for Emma’s distress, for which Selene draws two conclusions.) She sits silently, observing.

And, soon enough, her observation pays off. Emma doubles over, hacking. A thick wad of saliva comes up on the floor. Emma hacks again, gasps for breath, grips the table with one hand. She whimpers with discomfort; the other members of the Circle have either backed away from her or stood up to see what’s wrong with her, depending on their proximity.

Selene stands, deciding Emma’s been poisoned, and becomes rather disappointed at the prospect. Poison isn’t her chosen murder weapon, but she always been fond of the idea of being the one to assassinate Emma should the circumstances call for it.

But alas, Emma sits up, pale and sweating and still grimacing. One hand keeps her up. The other she clasps around her throat. A sound, a choked rumble, comes from her throat. And that’s when Selene knows.

_Idiot!_ She gets up and goes to Emma, grips her arm and drags her out of the dining room. Once outside, she pins the blonde up against the wall; Emma’s face pales with shock and fear. “Idiot,” she snarls. “How long has it been since you last purred?”

Emma’s speech is cut off by her strained vocal cords and of course—if the idiot can’t purr, she can’t talk. She grips her throat tighter. Tears well in her eyes. She shakes her head.

“Brilliant,” Selene mutters. Now she’ll have to play twenty questions with this dithering blonde to figure out her limits, figure out how long it’s been since she purred last. “A week?”

_Head shake._

“More than a week?”

_Nod._

“Two?”

_Nod._

“Idiot,” she snarls again. She rolls her eyes. Of the many things she’s never wanted to do, what she’s about to is most of them. “Come here.” She grabs Emma by the arm again, drags her down to her room, and all but throws her on the bed. “Purr.”

Emma pulls herself up into a sitting position. She tries to say something but chokes and coughs instead. It’s a moment before her voice works. “It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?” says Selene, who’s never purred a day in her life. She cocks an eyebrow. “And why ever not?”

Another painful cough before Emma says, “Not relaxed.”

_Damn it all._ Selene crosses her arms, takes a breath, and asks the question she already knows the answer to (and she hates it): “And what, pray tell, do you suggest _I_ do about that?”

Emma stares incredulously at Selene, choking and pale and unable to breathe or purr. She grips the bed with one hand, her throat with the other. She grimaces painfully. “ _Help me.”_

_Damn it_ all. Selene tips her head back to stare at the ceiling. Yes, that was exactly what she didn’t want to hear. She doesn’t do _help_ out of the kindness of her heart, she doesn’t do _comfort._ She doesn’t do _caring about others_ (unless, of course, they give her something she wants in return—which Emma can’t).

“ _Please._ ”

Her head snaps down. Selene feels a rare twinge in her throat, half of a first note of a rumble and she finds this both indicative of something and strange. The corner of her mouth twitches upward in a smirk. She has Emma at her mercy.

It’s a first.

She sighs, smiling inwardly. “If you insist.” She’s not really sure what she’s doing or what she’s supposed to do when she sits down next to Emma. But the blonde does, evidently, and without hesitation or consideration for her own life she leans into Selene, tucking her head under Selene’s chin. A brief glimpse into Emma’s mind tells Selene that this isn’t the ideal situation for either of them—Emma hates that she has to ask for Selene’s help but she’ll do anything for relief.

Selene sits there awkwardly, tense, never expecting in all her seventeen thousand years on this lawless planet that she would ever have Emma Frost leaning on her. She tentatively, uncertainly, raises her arm and puts it around Emma’s shoulders. That’s how that works, isn’t it?

And without thinking, she finds herself dragging her hand up and down Emma’s arm. She doesn’t stop.

Emma’s as unsure what to make of this as Selene. She’s tense at first, Selene can practically feel her fighting her much-needed urge to purr, but eventually she gives in. Selene feels the vibration of Emma’s purr against her shoulder. Feels ever ounce of tension leave Emma’s body.

(She doesn’t let go.)

“What ever possessed you to stop purring?” she asks. All telepaths had their limits, depending on how frequently they purred. Emma had met and exceeded hers.

_Idiot. Perhaps I was wrong to assume she had more sense than most in the Circle._

“Shaw,” Emma says, reluctant to stop purring now that she’s started. “I try not to purr around him, for my own reasons, though I’ve gathered he’s not fond of it. I’m usually able to get away for a little while alone and relieve myself before I go too long.” She frowns, shaking her head. “But these two weeks, I’ve been around him so long, I—I couldn’t.”

Selene scoffs. _Excuses, excuses._ “I know you’re infatuated with the man, but that’s no reason for this. I thought you were better.”

“So did I.”

Selene’s rhythm falters. She’s not sure what to do with that information. “Admitting your mistakes, are we?” she asks.

“Mm, well,” Emma says, “they say the first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have one.” She settles into a slow purr again, adding mentally, _Do let me get this out of my system before we start with anymore back and forth._

_If you insist_.

Selene loses track of how long this goes on. It feels like hours, and she’s beginning to get eager to return to the other members, lest they think she and Emma had suddenly found some sort of attraction between themselves and done something about it.

(Not that she’s ever cared what the Circle thinks of her.)

Much to her dismay, however, she finds the current arrangement rather pleasing. The feel of Emma’s purr against her shoulder is oddly relaxing; she’s not even thinking about what she’s doing with her hand anymore, not that Emma really needs it now. Pleasing enough that, without thinking, she pulls Emma a little tighter and realizes the path she’s going down when she nearly rests her head on Emma’s.

_Not in the next century_ , she scolds herself. She’s never fallen for anyone, and she’s not about to start with Emma.

_Of all people._

Wouldn’t that just be her luck?

But whatever she’s feeling—or might be feeling, might be tempted to feel—she pushes away and buries somewhere she’ll never reach it again. She looks down at Emma, practically curled up at her side, and curls her lip. “Are you quite finished?” This has been going far too long for Selene’s liking.

Emma’s purring stops abruptly. She stirs and sits up, away from Selene, and clears her throat. “Yes—yes, of course.” She clears her throat again, coughs, and purrs just to be sure everything’s clear. And then, when she’s sure it is, she gets up and goes to the door. She pauses and turns around; the color’s come back to her face and her breathing is easier.

“Thank you, Selene.”

Selene crosses her arms. “Don’t expect me to ever do this for you again.”

“Of course.”

But as she watches Emma leave, there’s a faint rumbling in her throat. She doesn’t try to stop it.


End file.
